


Warmen Stern (original version)

by Trent_In_A_Tree



Category: Rammstein
Genre: "endearments", BDSM, Dirty talk about really bad stuff hahahahahahha, German Endearments, Gunplay, I have nothing else to say, M/M, awkward friend convo after sex, schneider in his old army uniform should be an official kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trent_In_A_Tree/pseuds/Trent_In_A_Tree
Summary: There was a minute of silence in which Richard raised his hand to his own cheek and rubbed it absently in one place, maybe scratching, then said, "What was it like; the army, I mean?"Christoph looked at Richard with a slightly mystified smile twitching in the corner of his mouth, "Very dictatorial. Very exacting. I like this better."---Also known as: Richard somehow gets Christoph in his army outfit, and then things get really, really out of hand.my friend gabe translated the dialogue into German. if u wanna read that version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934322 LOVE U GABE





	Warmen Stern (original version)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the worst thing I've ever wrote. the title is the pun from Mann gegen Mann. warmen= warm or gay. sorry. 
> 
> the warnings have to be capitalized X bolded because of how awful this is.  
>  **WARNINGS: I wasn't really sure what to put in the archive's warnings, because there's no actual violence, but I don't want to upset anyone, so I do want y'all to know that there is gunplay (consensual, with a not-loaded gun), and mentioning of shooting it during dirty talk. sorry mom. idk if any of that constituted as fr violence tho so I didn't label it as such**  
>  commentary: this fic deserves 3 special shout outs! one, it is my first finished rammstein fic. hello rammstein fandom, I've been in u a while ;))! sorry the first fic I grace you guys with is fucking weird and gross, I have some slightly more swallowable fics that don't involve any guns (and probably some that do) lining up! two, this is the fic that I've probably edited and buffed up the most out of my fics because I have a really bad attention span (it's called I'm A Teenage Boy syndrome) and usually read them distractedly once, but due to my phone screen being fixed at the Apple Store today, I filled up idyll time buffing the FUCK OUTTA THIS! three, I think this is my longest independent fic as of yet. everyone say 'yay Jeordie' so I can hear you when I'm depressed 
> 
> this has got some THANK YOUS haha. thanks to the lovely marina for brainstorming for this with me when it was around 2-3 am. thanks to Ray, indigo, and erik for encouraging it, and also sorry to erik for having to date someone who writes shit this nasty. 
> 
> and. Most important. this fic is **dedicated with love to my honors English teacher this year who told us today in class that she was a very lonely high schooler and used to write supernatural fanfiction. I know she'll never read it, and I hope she doesn't, but I do know that I'm proud enough of the amount of editing that I did to know she's proud somehow unconsciously. I hope she secretly still writes fanfic**
> 
> have fun guys. sorry this note was so long

Christoph was watching Richard smoke. He was chain smoking as typical, his eyes focused directly on the television screen, smoke floating up in front of his face. Richard was growing incredibly restless. Pretty much everything on TV after 9 at night was too asinine for him to enjoy; it made him feel vaguely like an American wine mom. Eyes still focused on the screen, Richard grabbed the controller with cigarette free hand and switched the TV off.   
"Hey, I was watching that." Christoph lied, just to be indignant because he'd really zoned out several minutes ago, as well.   
He had been far more focused on watching Richard's lips pump out puffs of smoke, then watching them float in clouds over the lit television screen   
"Yeah, whatever." Richard paused, putting his cig out in the ash tray, "It was boring me."  
Christoph raised an eyebrow as Richard turned towards him on the leather couch, one leg up, the other extended. One hand pressed down into the couch next to his hip and the other was supporting his face.   
"Let's talk." Richard said, raising an eyebrow back in slight mockery of Christoph's expression.   
"You're good at that." Christoph responded, bringing his legs up on the couch in front of him to face Richard properly.   
"Hey, at least I know how to speak in decent English." Richard grinned proudly at his own (half assed, thought Christoph) insult.   
"At least I don't go on about stupid shit." Christoph was now smirking at Richard, waiting for the other man to lose his cool, but it didn't happen. It hardly did at this point in their friendship.   
Richard was unwound and Christoph could see that. Whatever he'd say, he liked seeing Richard unwound and relaxed, given that the perfectionism that Richard could sometimes exhibit seemed to drive him out of his own head to the point of near insanity.   
There was a minute of silence in which Richard raised his hand to his own cheek and rubbed it absently in one place, maybe scratching, then said, "What was it like; the army, I mean?"   
Christoph looked at Richard with a slightly mystified smile twitching in the corner of his mouth, "Very dictatorial. Very exacting. I like this better."   
“You’re always dictatorial. And exacting.” Richard raised eyebrow, to which Christoph pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.   
“Yeah, Reesh, I also have never liked being bossed around by people I have no respect for.” The corners of Christoph’s mouth threatened a smile.   
“Well, I know that.” Richard responded pointedly, “You’re fucking impossible to boss around.”   
Christoph thought there was something slightly odd about that statement, but when he tried to look into Richard’s eyes, Richard just as quickly twisted his torso around to put out his cigarette in the ashtray next to the couch. He turned around again, balancing his elbow on the back of the couch, as he removed another cigarette from the pack and lit it.   
“Do you still have your army uniform?” Richard inquired, smoke hazing up the area in front of his face.   
“Yeah, why?” Christoph asked.   
“Just curious, y’know.” Richard shrugged, flashing Christoph the charming little smile he overused in their interviews.   
“Hold on.” Christoph smirked, getting an idea, “Wait there.”   
“Alright.” Richard smiled as the other man stood from the couch, brushing down the front of his jeans in a habitual manner.   
Christoph brought one arm up behind his head and cracked the crick in his back by arching his torso. His shirt lifted to reveal a strip of his pale skin. Richard’s eyes slid down, looking there briefly, but just as quickly, Christoph had dropped his arms and turned to exit the room. Richard swallowed awkwardly, thanking the lord that Christoph had walked away, because he’d somehow been rendered speechless. Strange, he thought, turning back again to put out the butt of the cigarette, staring at his hand; tapered fingers ending in perfectly painted black nails, as if it didn’t belong to him anymore.   
Meanwhile, Christoph stood in the bathroom, with his neatly folded uniform that he'd just retrieved from the depths of the closet, unchanged from the time he’d last worn it in the Volksarmee. He remembered coming home in the procession with his fellow soldiers, and going upstairs in his parents’ house, folding the uniform in the way he’d been taught to for transport one last time.Snapping out of the past, he put the uniform down on the counter, feeling the bulge of the gun folded inside as he placed it on the counter. He put the boots he’d been carrying in the other hand on the ground.   
Quickly, Christoph unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and threw it to the side, a stark contrast to the way the uniform was folded. He dropped his pants and pulled them off, leaving his socks on. Army boots were damn uncomfortable without socks, which is something he’d learned the hard way; there'd been a lot of blisters. Christoph took his hat off the top of the folded uniform and gently unfolded it by the layer. First, his jacket, then his shirt, and then his pants. He picked his gun up off the pile, distinctly remembering how he’d taken all the bullets out of it and thrown them into the harbor. He was done with all of that when he'd left. He didn't want to be tempted.   
Christoph put the gun down by the mess of green clothes, taking a deep breath, trying to push away some of the unpleasant memories that came with looking through these old clothes. He tried to remember the things he’d enjoyed; the one other boy he’d snuck to the river with, how they had tried (and failed) to breed their dogs whom they adored to have a worthwhile souvenir to take home, how they’d all drank until they passed out, and woken up before their sergeant and drawn a Hitler mustache on him. Christoph smiled at the last one, picking up his pants by the waistband and pulling his legs into them. Their division would have gotten in awful trouble if the sergeant hadn’t been to worried about getting in trouble himself for oversleeping. Instead he’d swallowed it and washed the thing off his face. Christoph’s generation was not old enough to understood what it really meant, he’d told the soldiers, as they pulled their jackets against their torsos in the window meadow and ignored his life lessons, wishing for the cold to go away.   
He pulled the pants up over his bare stomach and zipped them, but didn’t button them. Christoph had wondered if any of these clothes would still fit him, but the pants seemed to. They felt a little tight in the thighs, but it wasn’t visibly noticeable. Christoph pulled on the shirt and began to button it. That was more visibly too small. Christoph’s shoulders and arms had built significant muscle mass since he’d been in the Volksarmee. He gave up on trying to button the shirt when he was three buttons from the top, and let out a snort of laughter when he pictured his sergeant reprimanding him.   
“Button your shirt, Schneider! You look like a hippie vagrant!” He whispered at himself in the mirror as he adjusted the cuffs on the too-fitted sleeves of the shirt, then burst into snorting laughter.   
He picked up his jacket, brushing dust off it, and pulled it on. The jacket had always been on the looser side when he was young. It now fit him snugly, but he was able to button it all the way, unlike the shirt. Drumming had been good for his figure, Schneider supposed, and his lips twitched into a slight smile. He picked up his cap and put it on over his hair, which was noticeably too long for the Volksarmee. Not even long, but too long for that. Private Christoph Schneider of division 6 looked back at him from the mirror. Schneider smirked at the reflection. He liked being a musician so much better than he liked fighting for causes he didn’t give a rat’s ass about.   
He leaned down, pulling one boot on, tucking his pant leg in, and tightened the laces, then repeated the process. He’d done this so many times that it was second nature to him. He felt more discomfort than usual, though, given the mis-sized nature of his pants and shirt. The seams felt as if they were threatening to burst as Christoph stood back up and fixed the lapels of his jacket. He picked his gun up in his hand and aimed at himself in the mirror. Then he dropped it to his side, checking to make sure it wasn’t loaded. Christoph had become paranoid about that while he’d been in service, and the paranoia wasn’t going anywhere, despite the absence of bullets anywhere in the vicinity.   
He smiled at himself, and then walked out of the bathroom.   
“Holy shit!” Richard guffawed at seeing Christoph, decked out head to toe in green.   
“What, don’t you like it, Reesh?” Christoph laughed, brandishing his gun at Richard, “Sir, you are a political prisoner, come with me.”   
“You look good, actually.” Richard said, arching an eyebrow at Christoph as he stood up.   
“What did you say? You’re my political prisoner. You’ve expressed...” Christoph wiggled his eyebrows, “Anti-Communist sentiments.”   
Richard burst out with laughter, and Christoph pressed the gun against the guitarist’s sharp jaw, snorting with laughter.   
“Please, Private Schneider, don’t hurt me!” Richard said, overblown, dramatic.   
The cold metal of the gun was pressed to Richard’s cheek hard. He looked down at Christoph, noticing the shirt stretched across the drummer’s chest, and the pants tight over his muscular thighs. Swallowing awkwardly, Richard looked down at Christoph’s boots.   
“Look up!” Christoph said in a mock commanding way, and Richard blushed deeply, looking up at Christoph.   
He looked directly into Christoph’s iridescent blue eyes, and saw his mouth twisted into a slight smirk, his brown locks hanging down from under his hat. Too long for the army, and yet Christoph’s strong, aristocratic features disdainfully focused on Richard, and matched his uniform perfectly. He looked like an authority. The authority. The cold metal of the gun was jammed into Richard’s jaw still, and Richard blushed even more deeply as he began to feel blood rushing south. Fuck.   
“Reesh, are you okay?” His features twisted into a soft concern, and Christoph wasn’t a soldier anymore, but his friend.   
“Y-yeah.” Richard swallowed thickly, moving to pull his shirt down over the crotch of his pants.   
Unfortunately, Christoph could tell that Richard was not, in fact, anywhere near okay, and leaned down to put the gun on the table a moment before Richard to cover himself. Christoph froze momentarily, and Richard’s heart nearly stopped.   
“I can explain-“ Richard started, as Christoph stood back up, clearly having changed his mind about putting his gun down on the table.   
“That would be absolutely fascinating.” Christoph mumbled, blush rising in his cheeks as he stared at the front of Richard’s jeans.   
“Uh, actually, I have nothing to say.” Richard gulped, looking up at Christoph, who was staring at him, blush gone, expression instead sharp-eyed and accusatory.   
That really wasn’t helping Richard make his hard-on go away.   
Christoph had an idea. It was risky, but it was obvious that Richard wouldn’t resist it, given his current state and behavior.   
“That’s new.” Christoph smirked, “This is the first time in my life...” he stepped closer to Richard, his eyes sparkling as he pressed the barrel of the gun up against the other man’s sharp cheekbone, ignoring the slight hesitance almost rising in his throat in favor of taking the risk, “That you’ve had absolutely nothing to say.”   
For the second time that day, Richard was at a loss for words completely. He made a pathetic attempt to stutter out out a sentence, his mouth falling open and his cheeks reddening again. Christoph laughed, and he slipped a large hand up Richard’s shirt, sliding his fingers up over the side of Richard’s well muscled torso.   
“You’re breathing so heavily.” Christoph remarked, simultaneously turned on by the control and surprised by Richard’s sudden reaction to seeing him all dressed up.   
“Ja, it's because you’re hot.” So apparently Richard’s constant need to chatter hadn’t escaped him completely.   
Christoph laughed at the thought; Richard never really shut up. He slipped his hand out from under Richard’s shirt and smirked at him.   
“Care to offer an explanation for why?” Christoph grinned at Richard, whose cheeks reddened again, his overconfident smirk disappearing.   
“Uh... I... like to be dominated.” Richard mumbled out, becoming pathetically embarrassed at his own statement.   
“I’m kind of surprised.” Christoph spoke honestly, putting the gun down at his side.   
“Yeah, I’m kind of embarrassed.” Richard sighed, “I hope I haven’t freaked you out, y’know.”   
“You're okay.” Christoph said, surprised that he wasn’t more freaked out.   
If someone had mentioned the scenario to him, he would have been genuinely disturbed, but in the moment, seeing Richard offered up before him like a sacrifice did nothing but turn him on.   
“Um, I kind of want you to,” Richard waved his hands in front of him, “Y’know.”   
“This?” Christoph inquires, smirk returning as he took a step closer to Richard, holding the gun up again, pushing it into the side of the other man’s jaw hard.   
“Yes.” Richard said stoically.   
“Alright.” Christoph said, sitting down on the couch, and cocking the gun, pointing at directly at Richard.   
Richard felt a second of internal panic, but then reminded himself that it had been a few years since Christoph had actually been in the army, and that he was dealing was a man who reprimanded him for not washing his contact lenses extensively enough before putting them in. There was absolutely no way Christoph would have kept a loaded gun sitting around. It would be fun to pretend though. Inhaling sharply, Richard put his hands up.   
“What would you like me to do, sir?” Richard smirked playfully at Christoph, who returned the look with that strong-eyed, authoritative look that had showed up on his face earlier.   
“Take your shirt off.” Christoph said, and Richard obeyed, smirk still on his face.   
Christoph thought that he’d have to find a way to knock that look off Richard’s face. He'd rather see him crying and decompensated. Richard’s hands shook as he unbuttoned the shirt, his fingers slipping on the buttons. Christoph knew logically that Richard’s hands were simply slipping because he was aroused but imagining to himself that it was due to fear excited him more.   
“Hurry up.” Christoph demanded.   
“Yes, Sir.” Richard accidentally squeaked out, and Christoph smirked back at him.   
Richard finished unbuttoning the shirt and threw it aside. Christoph grinned.   
“Good job.” He said condescendingly, then flicked the gun up at Richard, staring impatiently, “Pants too.”   
Richard nodded and unbuttoned the jeans that had long since grown too tight in the crotch, dropping them around his ankles and stepping out of them. His cheeks reddened slightly because he felt extremely exposed in just his black boxers and socks, held at the point of Christoph’s gun. Christoph made a point of looking his up and down with a strongly predatory gaze, letting his eyes linger on Richard’s chest, then his hardened cock, then his thighs. Christoph looked back up at Richard’s face, making eye contact with him, a slow smile breaking across his face.   
"Undies off, meine Prinzessin." Christoph's smirk was yet to disappear, and Richard could feel his heart beating fast at the condescending, feminine endearment.   
He peeled the black fabric down, throwing it aside.   
"Display yourself." Christoph ordered, and Richard felt a warm sense of pride licking at his stomach as he spread his legs further apart, showing the hardness between his legs to the other man.   
"You're just filthy." Christoph smirked, and the pride immediately turned to a jolt of humiliation that shot directly through Richard's cock like lightening. Christoph beckoned Richard over with the hand clutching the gun, “Now, come here.”   
Richard sauntered over, any embarrassment he’d had steadily evaporated, being replaced with excitement. Before Christoph had to ask, Richard dropped down on his knees, between the other man’s legs.   
“I know what you want, Sir.” Richard purred, putting undue intensity on the last word, almost making it sound ironic.   
Christoph shoved the gun into Richard’s face, stabbing his cheek roughly with it, and Richard yelped, his hand rising to his cheek.   
“Jesus fucking Christ, Schneider!” Richard snapped.  
“Would you like to apologize for your mouthing off?” Christoph calmly inquired, lacing his fingers in Richard’s hair, holding him tightly.   
“Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir.” He mumbled out, blinking away compulsive tears solely from the pain of how hard Christoph’s gun had connected with his cheek.   
“Good.” Christoph placed his gun down on the couch next to him and stroked Richard’s silver locks gently with his free hand.   
“Can I suck you off?” Richard groaned out, mostly because Christoph was still holding his hair quite tightly with one of his hands.   
“Sir.” Christoph implored.   
“Sir.” Richard repeated, “Can I suck you off? Is that what you want?”   
Christoph said nothing, and Richard reached to his fly to unzip it. He did so successfully and began to pull Christoph’s pants down past his hips. Christoph took the hand gently stroking Richard’s hair away to still his hands from pulling his pants down any lower. He picked up Richard’s hand and put it on the the edge of his boxers. Richard obediently took hold, pulling them down Christoph’s strong thighs.   
Richard sighed, feeling his cock twitch in the open air, right where Christoph could see it. Richard had seen Christoph undress before, but he’d never been only a few inches away from the man’s cock. Christoph pubes were dark and curly, and his cock was hard and warm in Richard’s hand. Richard stared at it, feeling blush rise in his cheeks against his will.   
“Well, don’t just hold it.” Christoph reprimanded him.   
Richard nodded, tight lipped, feelings of arousal rushing directly to his own cock. He hesitantly stroked his hand up Christoph’s cock, leaning down to flick his tongue over the slightly exposed pink head, then pushing the foreskin back with his other hand, stroking his tongue gently over the tip. He looked up at Christoph, staring at him with loving, green eyes. Christoph’s blue ones looked down at him harshly, contrasting his worshipful gaze with harshness; his lips separated slightly, the air of dominance still on his face.   
“Stop fucking around and put your mouth on it.” Christoph said.   
Richard teasingly slipped his lips over the sensitive pink head, reaching down to cup Christoph’s balls in the other hand, squeezing softly, then stroking adeptly. He hazarded a look up to Christoph when he felt his large hand loosen its grip in his hair. The other man’s eyes had fallen shut, and his cheeks were turning pink, not with embarrassment, but with arousal. Richard teased the slit of Christoph’s cock with the tip of his tongue, and heard the man inhale sharply, seeing his stomach move under his shirt. He looked up at Christoph’s face again, and his vibrant blue eyes were opened again, this time staring down at Richard sharply.   
“Stop teasing me.” Christoph tried to avoid the statement coming out with a moan, but failed.   
Richard pulled back from Christoph’s cock and fluttered his eyelashes cattily, “Me, teasing, Sir?”   
In a flash, Christoph had the gun in his hand again. He pressed it against Richard’s forehead, and stared at him so intensely that Richard thought those bright blue eyes would burn holes through his skull faster than the gun if it were fired. Richard slowly lowered his mouth to Christoph’s cock, sliding his lips over the head and down the shaft, as Christoph slid the gun to press against the side of his forehead as opposed to the front in order to allow room for Richard's mouth to move.   
Suddenly, Richard felt Christoph’s hand pressing into the back of his head, fingers strong against his scalp. Richard felt himself almost choke as Christoph’s fingers curled up into his hair, forcing his mouth down all the way. Richard’s nose was buried in Christoph’s pubes, and his eyes watered. He tried to pull back, perfectly willing to repress his gag reflex and let Christoph fuck his mouth, but Christoph had the gun pressed to his cheek, and he kept Richard’s mouth where it was, his cock pushed all the way down his throat.   
His vision blurring with tears, Richard slapped Christoph’s thigh weakly, repeatedly, trying to broadcast the fact that he was choking. Just as he thought he’d completely lose his breath, Christoph let him go, and Richard fell back on his knees, coughing and spluttering. He wiped spit off his chin, and looked up at Christoph with a new docile nature in his eyes, as if he’d been broken. Christoph smirked at Richard and beckoned him closer. Richard laid his hand on Christoph’s thigh, gazing up at him with widened eyes.   
Christoph stood up, and told Richard, “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, put your mouth on it properly.”   
“Yes, Sir.” Richard put his mouth as far on Christoph’s cock as he could, waiting to feel fingers in his hair, and sighing against the hardened flesh in his mouth when he did.   
Christoph’s fingers held tightly in Richard’s hair, but this time the gun hung in Christoph’s other hand, by his side. After a few slow, lazy thrusts in and out of Richard’s mouth that had his throat tensing as he attempted to resist choking, Christoph pulled back and smirked at him.   
Christoph let go of Richard’s hair and held the gun up, “Get on the couch.”   
Richard nodded, looking at Christoph dumbly with big eyes, glittering with the stress of arousal. Shakily, he took the few steps needed to reach the couch, then sat down on it.   
“Get on all fours, smartass.” Christoph took a step closer, gun pointed towards Richard’s head.   
Richard nodded, swallowing roughly, his heart beating loudly in his chest, and got up on his knees, putting his hands on the leather armrest of the couch. He turned his head to look back at Christoph, who was positioning himself between Richard’s knees, the sound of him kneeling behind him making the leather of the couch squeak. For a moment, he imagined Christoph’s body pressing against his, all his weight bearing on him, the muscles of his thighs and arms... Richard was jolted out of his drifting thoughts by the feeling of cold metal impatiently tapping against his thigh.   
“Spread your legs, Reesh.” Came Christoph’s growl from behind him.   
Richard whined pitifully and spread his legs apart.   
“You know,” Christoph said softly, tracing the tip of the gun up the inside of Richard’s leg, pressing it into the flesh of his upper thigh, “I could shoot.”   
That statement was loaded with many meanings, and Richard shivered under the cold metal’s press, “What do you mean?”   
“I could fire this gun.” Christoph was murmuring and Richard turned around to see Christoph’s hand on his own cock, stroking fervently, while his muscular forearm tensed under his too-tight shirt, the sliver of his chest revealed by open buttons slicked with sweat to match his flushed cheeks.   
Richard resisted a smirk as he felt Christoph slide the gun up to the place where Richard’s thigh and ass met, the silver metal pressing again, hard, digging into his flesh. Christoph’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was restraining sound; his lips pushed together into a thin line.   
“What are you thinking?” Richard asked, panickedly adding, “Sir?”   
“About what I could do to you.” That growl again.   
Richard liked it, it was sexy.   
He knew what Christoph was thinking, and he hazarded his guess, “You can fuck me, you know, and if you shot me, well... you still could. You especially could.”   
Christoph’s tense mouth fell open in relaxation as he exhaled with a soft moan. Richard felt pre-cum slick fingers clumsily pressing against his entrance, and knew he’d succeeded.   
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Christoph inquired gruffly, slipping the tip of a finger successfully into Richard, who turned his face away, biting his lip due to the familiar shot of pain.   
“Ja.” Richard grunted out as Christoph pushed his finger all the way in, shoving the gun hard into Richard’s leg again.   
“You’re such a fucking whore.” Christoph spit out, beginning to push another finger inside of Richard, lifting the gun away.   
Richard was about to complain about the absence of the gun, afraid Christoph had somehow misunderstood him; misunderstood what his want... but, no. The side of the gun came down hard on his ass, shocking a soft scream out of him. The cold metal left a stinging feeling tingling through his whole lower half, straight to his cock.   
“You’d let me fuck you however I like.” Christoph murmured, pulling his fingers out of Richard, roughly grabbing his ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand, and then his hand was off, the gun was back, and his cock was pushing into Richard.   
Richard groaned carnally at the feeling of Christoph’s warm length stretching him open. His eyes watered and he clenched his arms to brace himself against the pressure and pain. He let out an uncharacteristic whining sound and Christoph snorted in laughter, nudging the gun against his skin as a reminder as he slid himself completely inside Richard, filling him. Richard groaned out in pain, weakly shoving himself against Christoph, the other man’s strong legs pressed flush to Richard’s.   
“Poor little Reesh.” Christoph cooed mockingly, pushing his fingers into his silver locks again, pulling his head up from its place against the couch roughly, “Does it hurt too much, mein Häschen? Do you need a break?”   
Christoph lifted the gun as he thrusted in and out of Richard again, lifting it over his ass to hit him there, harder than before, “Would you rather I shoot you and fuck the hole? I knew that's what you were getting at earlier.”   
“Sheiße, Schneider.” Richard cried out, wincing from the pain of his hair being pulled so roughly by the other man and the pain shooting though his ass; shivering from the arousal flowing through him from the dirty words.   
“Haven’t you got anything better to say?” Christoph grunted, his thrusts hard and aggressive.   
“Fuck me harder.” Richard groaned out, his arms shaking near-collapse, his sweaty hands slipping against the leather of the couch.   
Roughly, Christoph yanked Richard up by the hair, eliciting a scream of pain from the other man. Christoph held Richard firmly by the hair, thrusting into him more steadily now, pressing the gun to the side of his neck as he pulled Richard’s head closer to whisper in his ear.   
“You’re a fucking whore.” Christoph grunted out, “Tell me that you’re a fucking whore.”   
Richard groaned out, “I’m your whore, Sir — fuck!”  
“Good boy.” Christoph smiled cruelty against Richard’s ear, thrusting into him particularly roughly.   
“Schneider, I’m going to cum.” Richard groaned.   
“No you’re not.” Christoph groaned, “You’re not going to until you’re all bloody and full of cum; all over. You’re not going to cum until I’ll fucked you in every way I can.”   
“Fuck, Schneider, mehr!” Richard groaned, the idea of Christoph manhandling his body; throwing him around, violating him, pushing him closer to cumming rather than preventing him.   
“If you cum, I’ll fucking shoot you.” Christoph yanked Richard’s hair hard, turning him so his open mouth was accessible, then spitting roughly in it.   
Richard coughed, due to the lack of expectation for that, and Christoph laughed, “Don’t let your mouth hang open like a dumb fucking slut, then.”   
“I am, though.” Richard choked out, his vision growing hazy as pain throbbed in his scalp, on his ass, and between his legs.   
His cock ached for release, and the idea of Christoph; tall, handsome, and decked out in army gear, holding a gun to his neck, was almost too much to bear. It certainly was too much to bear for much longer.   
“That’s fucking true. You’re usually so smart. You know everything.” Christoph spat, “Not now. Who knew you were such a fucking useless whore?”   
“Fuck.” Richard cried out pitifully, tears of arousal and desperation filling his eyes, “Can I cum?”   
“Did you hear me, of course not.” Christoph slapped Richard’s cheek with the gun, then pressed the tip against him, “I’ll fucking kill you.”   
“Please,” Richard begged, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer, and also knowing that it would be hotter to play along with the game as if the gun were loaded (which he almost wished it was in his current state of arousal), “You don’t have to do that. You can fuck me like my body’s a useless toy. Cum in me. Make me all fucking bloody.” 

"Fuck, I'm going to." Christoph growled, thrusting into him sloppily, collapsing both of their bodies forward into the couch. 

"Ja, please!" Richard groaned, the weight of Christoph's body pushing him into the couch, making the leather squeak with every thrust. 

"Cum for me, Reesh." Christoph hissed in Richard's ear, "Do it, you fucking whore." 

The growling by his ear, the gun against his cheek, and the weight of Christoph's warm, strong body weighing his down as his cock rubbed against the leather couch was enough to push Richard completely over the edge. 

"Schneider!" Richard cried out, out of breath, as his body tensed. 

Christoph groaned in response, feeling Richard's warm insides tensing on his cock as his body shook under him, completely under his control, completely belonging to him. As Richard let out a series of pathetic moaning sounds, shooting his load on the black couch, Christoph collapsed against him, his chest heaving, as he let loose inside the man under him. The room was silent, save for the sounds of heavy breathing, and the leather of the couch squeaking under the weight of the two men. After a few moments of increasingly heavy silence, Christoph spoke hesitantly. 

"Are you okay, Reesh?" He murmured into Richard's ear, slowly disentangling his fingers from the other man's silver locks. 

"Yeah, you're crushing me, though." Richard said, sarcastically. 

"Sorry." Christoph awkwardly climbed off of his friend, sitting up on the other side of the couch as Richard folded his legs.  

"I wasn't complaining." Richard joked, unfolding his legs and resting his feet lazily on Christoph's lap. 

"Jeeze." Christoph murmured, looking between Richard's legs at the very obvious mess of cum the two of them had made. 

"What, ready for round two already?" Richard smirked, and Christoph immediately wanted to slap it off his face. 

"Shut up. I'm just wondering how I'm going to get the fucking couch clean." Christoph snorted. 

"You were really, uh, good." Richard burst out, immediately regretting the awkward and unseductive nature of the compliment. 

Christoph froze, "Uh, thanks." Blush rose in his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, "So, uh, were you. I don't actually want to shoot you." 

"No. I know. Please don't ever try it." Richard smiled a soft version of his typical smirk. 

"I'll only shoot you if you tell Till about this." Christoph looked at Richard sternly. 

"I know you won't shoot me, so I can't promise not to tell him." Richard smirked. 

Christoph rolled his eyes. Fucking Richard. 

(Literally.) 

**Author's Note:**

> haha sorry. also all the shit in German was to, like, give the impression that they were speaking German the whole time, even tho I don't speak much German so I couldn't write in real German completely through


End file.
